Fame is like glitter: it sticks to you when you don't want it, and it never quite goes away.
Unwanted Fame
Mica stood outside my door with an expression on his face as if he was fleeing from the horseman of death.
"I need your help," he said, and I stepped aside so he could come in.
I led him to the living room and poured him a glass of water from the pitcher on the coffee table.
"What's wrong?" I asked, and Mica, looking almost desperate, handed me a letter sealed with the unmistakable red wax of the Blutkaiser's coat of arms.
I opened the envelope and skimmed the letter, which contained a very polite invitation to dinner.
"I thought, from your behavior, that you were at least threatened with death," I remarked quietly.
Mica buried his face in his hands. "Shay, it's worse than that! How am I going to survive tomorrow night?"
"You have to make him like you," I stated the obvious.
Mica looked no wiser for my wisdom. "But how?"
"Blutkaiser values power and cunning," I mused. "Once you outwit him, you'll be on his good side."
"Shay, I would like to point out that I am not you," Mica interjected resignedly.
Indeed, Mica had never been particularly good at misleading people, nor was he known for his cunning. Being a second-generation vampire, he held no rank among his own kind. Still, the fact that Mr. Blutkaiser had invited him to a fancy dinner at his grand mansion meant something—though it might also be due to Coffee's persistent intercession or Crimson's order. I smiled.
"Above all, keep Blutkaiser's one weakness in mind," I advised.
Mica frowned, seeming to doubt that the old vampire even had a weakness.
"What is his weakness?"
"His daughter," I said, pleased to see a tiny spark of recognition in Mica's eyes.
"If he sees that his daughter is happy with you, you could still be spared," I shrugged. "And if you give it time, he'll surely come to like you. Even if not for yourself, he'll appreciate you for his daughter's sake."
Mica nodded slowly, though he still looked uncertain. I was confident it would all work out.
"So, have you slept with her yet?" I asked with a wry grin.
Mica blushed from ear to ear, his indignation and embarrassment evident.
"No!" he said quickly, his tone very grumpy. "I'm sure Blutkaiser would be very upset if I tried it before the wedding!"
A wedding, eh? My grin widened even more.
"You're right; he is old-fashioned."
Mica's embarrassment eased a little.
"But not everything needs to be known to the old bat," I added, and Mica shouted my name so loudly that I was sure the neighborhood within half a kilometer of us must have become deaf. I merely chuckled in satisfaction.
(...)
The cocoa in my mug had just reached that perfect point of warmth when my phone buzzed on the table beside me. I grabbed it lazily, expecting some update from Lil or Mazen, but instead, a message from an unknown number lit up the screen:
Unknown Number: [You're amazing, you know that?🤩🤩🤩]
I blinked at the message, momentarily thrown off. Who the fuck is this?
I typed back cautiously. [Who is this?]
The response was immediate.
Unknown Number: [It's me, Ábel.😊]
My eyebrows shot up. Ábel? The kid who once declared technology "a waste of time" now had a phone?
[Since when do you have a phone?]
I barely had time to save his number before my phone buzzed again.
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Got it yesterday. I begged Doc for a whole day. BTW I saw your video🤩😁]
[Video?]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [The one where you made the Sorcerer Lord's apprentices kneel! It was epic! Doc almost spat his coffee when he saw it, but I thought it was super cool!]
I ran a hand down my face, groaning audibly this time. Of course, it was that.
[That wasn't about being "cool," Ábel. It was about making sure they didn't do something stupid.]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Yeah, yeah, but the way you talked? So inspiring! I felt like I had to do something, too. That's why I got the phone. It's for…uh…keeping up with important things. Like you.]
I didn't know whether to be exasperated or touched. Probably both.
[Still, you could've just asked me. I would've gotten you a phone without the theatrics.]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Nope. I work for what I get. And Doc's face was worth it anyway. He just stared at the screen and said, "What a waste of potential," before sipping his coffee like nothing happened. Then he spit it again when I said I wanted to be just like you.]
Despite myself, I laughed. That sounded exactly like the stoic fae doctor.
[You're impossible.]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Hehe😊🫡]
I sighed, shaking my head as I typed back.
Me: Yeah, yeah, don't let it go to your head.
The next link he sent wiped the smirk off my face instantly: "The Hueless King Appreciation Society Official". My cocoa was officially forgotten. I stared at the link for a long, disbelieving moment.
[What is this?]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Your official fan page, duh. I told the Doc I needed a phone for it, and he actually spit out his coffee for the third time. This is why I had to beg him for a whole day before he finally caved.]
I groaned, rubbing my temples.
[A fan page? Why?]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [Because you're awesome and people need to know it. Also, I got bored between training sessions.]
I pinched the bridge of my nose, muttering under my breath. This is what I get for checking my phone today. With a reluctant sigh, I tapped the link.
The page loaded, and the first thing that hit me was the banner. It was a dramatic shot of me mid-stride, my coat flaring out like wings. Someone had added an absurd amount of sparkles and text that read, "The Hueless King: Protector of the Realm."
I choked on my tea.
"Oh, no," I muttered. "Oh, absolutely not."
Scrolling down, it only got worse. The page was plastered with images—some recent, like me towering over the Sorcerer Lord's apprentices, and some candid, clearly taken without my knowledge. Fortunately, my face was blurred. Thank God.
There were captions, too.
[Hueless King teaching humility 101.]
[Hueless King: All bark, all bite.]
[Did someone say icon? Because we did.]
I buried my face in my hands.
[Ábel. What is this?]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [A work of art.]
My honest opinion: [This is ridiculous.]
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [You're trending! People love you!]
Against my better judgment, I checked the comments. There were hundreds.
[Finally, someone putting those arrogant mages in their place!]
[Is he single? Asking for a friend.]
[The Hueless King could step on me, and I'd thank him.]
I shoved the phone onto the table and groaned loudly.
Ábel, apparently oblivious to my existential crisis, sent another message.
Nearly-Nailed-It Ábel: [By the way, don't forget to like and share!😁]
I slumped back in my chair, glaring at the screen like it had personally wronged me. Somewhere, Ábel was probably grinning ear to ear, and the fae doctor was likely mourning his life choices.
"I'm too old for this," I muttered.
The sky thundered angrily, and the rain pounded loudly on the asphalt. I sat by the open window, enjoying the cool air that occasionally hit my face. I sipped my cocoa now and then, but mostly I watched nature's fury with quiet calm. Lightning crackled across the dark sky, briefly illuminating the night.
"Bad news?" I asked, taking another sip of my cocoa. I can not handle more bad news today.
A huge rumble shook the world as Mazen stepped out of the shadows.
"No," he said quietly, "I just wanted to talk."
"Sit down," I said, glancing up at the darkest mage of all time.
Mazen settled into one of the armchairs.
"So?" I prompted.
"You're not strong enough," Mazen said with brutal honesty.
A small half-smile formed on my lips. Mazen didn't quite grasp my amusement, his eyebrows drawing slightly closer together. He handed me a piece of paper with a long list of names. I raised an eyebrow.
"You're not strong enough," he repeated. "You need more people to take down a mage organization. That's a list of my recommendations."
I folded the sheet without looking at it. Mazen's expression shifted to one of shock.
"Aren't you planning to regroup the Behemoth's members?" Mazen asked.
I shook my head. If the Behemoth stopped defending my territory, it would be an open invitation for dark mages to attack.
"Then how are you going to deal with a vast organization of mages on your own with only a handful of subjects?"
"Come on," I smirked, giving him a teasing grin, "I have you, Mazen."
Mazen remained impassive, his expression stiff. Though his eyes softened slightly, his demeanor was still guarded.
"Even with an ally as powerful as me," he said quietly, "you have a high chance of failure."
"I don't want any more subjects," I declared. "For now, we'll continue to weaken the Circle."
He didn't agree, but he didn't question my decision either. He simply nodded curtly.
I then reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a stack of letters. "Actually, before you go," I said, handing them to him, "I need you to send these to the right people."
Mazen took the letters, giving them a cursory glance. "Who should I send them to?"
"I've marked the addresses," I replied. "Just make sure they get to the right hands. These need to reach their destinations without delay."
Mazen nodded, tucking the letters into his cloak. "Understood."
His expression set in its usual unimpressed neutrality, though his sharp gaze flicked to the phone I'd been glaring at for the past fifteen minutes.
"Something troubling you, Shay?" he asked, arching a brow.
"Oh, you could say that," I replied, leaning back in my chair and picking up the phone. I tossed it toward him casually. "Take a look at this. Apparently, I'm a celebrity now."
Mazen caught the phone effortlessly and glanced at the screen. His brow furrowed as he began scrolling, and then his lips twitched—just a fraction.
"You're telling me someone made this for you?" he asked, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
"Not someone." I folded my arms, fighting the urge to sink into the chair like it could swallow me whole. "Ábel. My little brother has officially declared himself my publicist."
Mazen's composure cracked; he actually laughed—a short, quiet sound that still managed to feel like victory for him. "So this is where the younger generation puts their energy," he mused, scrolling down to the comments.
"Skip the comments," I warned.
He ignored me, of course, and his smirk grew. "I think you have admirers, Shay. Though I'm not sure if it's for your heroics or your... aura of danger."
"I don't have an aura of danger," I grumbled.
"You absolutely do." He continued scrolling. "What's this? 'The Hueless King could step on me, and I'd thank him'? Shay, you've found your demographic."
"Give me that!" I lunged for the phone, but he leaned back, holding it out of reach with ease.
"Relax. I think it's good for morale," Mazen said, his grin downright insufferable now. "Though you might want to keep this away from the Sorcerer Lord. He might feel threatened by your rising popularity."
I snatched the phone back and locked it with a dramatic flourish. "If anyone asks, this never happened."
"Oh, but it did," Mazen replied smoothly, picking up a cup of tea I hadn't offered him.
I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"Who says I'm not?" Mazen took a leisurely sip of tea, clearly enjoying my torment.
Mazen set the empty teacup down with the precision of someone who enjoyed making even the smallest actions seem infuriatingly elegant. He adjusted his cuffs, glancing at me with that trademark, faintly mocking expression that practically oozed superiority.
"Well, Shay," he began, his tone smooth and insufferably amused, "it's been enlightening, as always. Do let me know when your fan base starts producing merchandise. I imagine a 'Hueless King' keychain would be quite the collector's item."
I opened my mouth to retort, but before I could, he stepped back, gave a slight bow that somehow managed to be both courteous and mocking, and vanished into thin air with a swirl of faint magical energy.
The noble simplicity of it all.
I stared at the spot where he'd stood, muttering under my breath, "Why can't he ever leave a room like a normal person?"
The silence of the room answered with the steady hum of the fan page notifications still buzzing on my phone. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
"Great," I muttered. "I've got a fan club and the most dramatic subject ever. What's next? An official anthem?"
Alex entered as soon as the mage had left. He held his nose while spraying some patchouli-scented air freshener, clearly trying to make me suffer along with him. I grimaced; I detest the smell of patchouli.
"What are you planning?" he asked, gesturing wildly toward the window. I knew what he meant right away.
Though his tone was neutral, I could tell Alex was anxious about the upcoming battle.
"You don't have to worry," I replied, finishing the last of my cocoa. "It's safer if we fight alone."
Alex looked at me questioningly.
"Think about what would happen if we brought in people who might betray us at the most critical moment. We'd be caught and defeated instantly."
Alex nodded slowly.
"There's no rush," I continued. "We'll keep weakening the mages from several fronts and strike when the moment is right. If we try to bite off more than we can chew, it will get stuck in our throats."
Alex opened his mouth to reply, but the relentless buzz of my phone interrupted him. He frowned, glancing at the device on the table between us. "What the heck is up with your phone? It's been dinging non-stop since I got here."
I sighed, picking it up reluctantly. "Ábel."
"Ábel?" Alex tilted his head, his confusion deepening.
I unlocked the screen and handed the phone to him. "See for yourself."
He squinted at the notifications, scrolling through the barrage of messages and tags. "'Hueless King Appreciation Society'? Are you kidding me?"
"I wish I was," I muttered, rubbing my temples.
"Wait." Alex's grin spread slowly as he began scrolling through the posts. "This... this is glorious. Ábel did this? When did he even learn how to use a phone?"
"Apparently, he begged the fae doctor for a whole day after seeing me make the Sorcerer Lord's apprentices kneel. He thought it was 'super cool,'" I said, my voice dripping with disbelief.
Alex barked out a laugh, scrolling faster. "Super cool? He's not wrong. Look at these memes! Hueless King Supremacy? Someone finally trademarked your overwhelming aura!"
"Apparently," I muttered, looking at the most recent notification—a meme boldly proclaiming: 'Serving deadly stares since the dawn of time.'
Alex snorted. "Oh, this is gold. Wait, wait—let me see that one." He scrolled a bit, then burst out laughing.
"'Step aside mortals, the real main character has arrived.'" He held up the phone, showing me a picture of myself casually eating breakfast in Livius's court while chaos unfolded behind me. Plates and chairs were flying; mages were yelling. I almost choked on my cocoa.
"They even trying to recover your blurry face! Iconic. They aren't even close."
I rolled my eyes. "It's ridiculous. Why does this even exist?"
Alex ignored me, scrolling gleefully through the feed. "Oh, here's a gem: 'The Hueless King doesn't need sunlight. The sun needs him.' Shay, you've officially dethroned Apollo."
"Flattering," I deadpanned, "but I'm not sure this is how I wanted my legend to spread."
"Wait—this one!" Alex held up another image, a side-by-side comparison of me standing casually and a group of mages visibly sweating and kneeling. The caption read: 'When the boss battle music starts playing but it's just the Hueless King existing.'
I sighed, leaning my head back against the chair. "Are they trying to make me sound like some kind of final boss?"
"Well, to be fair," Alex quipped, "you do have that... vibe."
He scrolled again and cackled, showing me a GIF. It was me in the middle of chaos, calmly dodging Mose's unintentional attacks as if they were child's play. The caption read: 'The Hueless King: Tanking life's BS, one battle at a time.'
"I think this one's my favorite," Alex admitted, his grin downright mischievous now. "You're like a walking meme factory."
"I hate everything about this."
"Do you, though?" He smirked, swiping to the next post. A dramatic zoom-in on my figure standing before kneeling mages with the caption: 'The Hueless King when someone dares question his plans: Bold of you to assume you're still alive.'
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to block out Alex's laughter. "Do people really have nothing better to do?"
Alex laughed so hard he had to wipe away a tear. "Oh, wait—this one's good. 'When you're hit by the Hueless King's overwhelming aura but you weren't ready.'" It was accompanied by an image of someone fainting dramatically.
I shook my head, biting back a small smile. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"Shay," Alex said, still grinning, "you might not like it, but this is branding. If you ever decide to start a cult, I swear, you'll already have loyal subjects."
"I'll keep that in mind," I said dryly. "Now, if you're done, can we focus on the actual battle plans?"
"Battle plans? No need for that. Shay, your aura already won half the fight for us," Alex teased, earning himself an unamused glare.
Alex relaxed, appearing pleased with my misery. He smiled faintly.
"Lunch is ready," he announced, almost casually, though it was the most important piece of information he had given me that day.
I immediately got up and headed for the kitchen. If I weren't the king of monsters, I would have been humming with delight, knowing that a delicious Italian pasta awaited me.